Archive for authentic

Frequency level…

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 7, 2018 by JenJuice

I speak to the subconscious.21728357_10211285407265845_3806728693056502364_n

Present Presence

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 21, 2018 by JenJuice

When you are in flow with life’s currents….breathing is like a subtle wind breeze.21768972_10211341871157407_1950931177896352589_o

Why are we?

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2018 by JenJuice

I have tried to implicate my life as a social introvert…when in reality, I’m an introvert trying on an extroverted perception for some time….but, words are clumsy, so…
I’ll just be me.

Texas Tornado – Presence.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2018 by JenJuice

If I had evidence of where I started, I may be able to have an anchor, but, thank God, I don’t. I don’t have any photographs before I was 3 years old..My mom claims my baby photos were lost in one of the floods we had as a baby…Houston is Wetlands – floods happen. However, why was my brother’s baby photos preserved and not mine? I reckon my mother destroyed any evidence of a reminder of the time she was hurting out of control…like me, I remind her of my Dad..the representation of unconditional love and that’s us.

I didn’t meet my birth father until I was 20…not cuz we didn’t want to meet, but because I was in the prison of my mother’s ego. The ‘use the child as a weapon’ mentality…that just is ego..fear-based quantitative supported by c.apitalism. It’s as if this ego-sense is a new term. And, the only question is, how do I respond? Because the only thing we have control we have is our responses to any action. How did I get this concept so young? I remember my mom was young (24 years old) and getting stoned and partying (as any 24 year old does) and I’m 3….the other kids were all in my brother’s room “behaving” the parents words. There a few older kids just sitting in my brother’s room, silent, obedient, no questions asked, just yes ma’am. And, me, Jen..3 years old seeing my mom happy and everyone smiling and having fun and my instinct..was they are probably hungry. So, 3 year old Jen goes and gets doritos and spreads them on a cookie sheet and adds American cheese as dressing and puts in the oven to heat to melt. As I recall this memory, I haven’t a clue how a 3 year old has this instinctual behavior, but I’ve always been me..,..

I remember looking at the bong and hearing the bubbly water and wondered what made those bubbles occur just like their smiles. Cuz, I knew after the smiles would come the after party of the downer I have this little girl..and “fuck you, bitch!” she screams….and, I just believed her…cuz, mom knows all.
My mom’s not a bad lady…she would have been better if she knew how to love herself and that’s not something intuitive or even known for most….

So, what do you say to self-love?…that’s your truest superpower.

Self-love means pausing, sitting alone with yourself in your own presence and just being still in your space. My Dad always told me, “don’t ever let anyone steal your joy. In the good or the bad” Present energy is always joy, the truest state..words are clumsy, so, hear beyond the words.

Identifier is just a word.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , on June 21, 2017 by JenJuice

He kept yelling at me asking if I know this poet’s name or that poet’s name.
No sir.
I don’t know names.
I just know I write poetry.

A town..not so far from the world….you count the currency blown.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2016 by JenJuice

I’ve never quite understood showing tits for beads….I mean, it’s your luscious breasts – your beautiful body. Beads and tits..they just don’t even (com)pair. It’s like these people that take photos of them drinking anything possible – playing drinking games, but who really wins?

Traveling….romanticizing how your self is another self in another country means what? Are you authentic self in or out or out or in or swirling like a spawn. Run, don’t walk, fuck, drink, don’t drive, be, live, spread yourself thin and wildly…another Girl or Boy Gone Wild story…because, what is it about to you? Observing the minds of others or is it just to fuck as many people that you can in as many different countries as possible? We all have a story – what is yours? What makes you special (or not)?

In a sentimental fashion there used to be sentiment. Some place in between the digging our way out of our own way we lost the place we are destined…or have we chosen this speed? Do you not even recognize your way of being? The unaware doll… the unaware being. The choice to be in the darkness of speed. Where do you look for (mind) food when you need to eat? The lurker hiding in the black worlds of the black beaches, dark as midnight without a stun gun. Watch out for those synthetic drugs…some stories are true whether you believe them or not.

What is that we are stressing over? The context of how the train won’t speed up, the way the car in front of you didn’t signal? I didn’t pronounce the word the way you think it should be heard through your ears. The reaction on my face didn’t go to par as to what you think it should, so now you feel rejected? So, what did you eat today? Where is the time you forgot to understand where it is to be present?

The dichotomy of sensationalism and broken down ledges…we try to climb down from our own levies we built for our own protection, but it’s just a crack away from a torrential downpour.

If the only word you have to describe a town was “date-rapey” – I wonder if people would still visit. The backpacker’s guide to life is the lie they all tell themselves – that everything and everyday is absolutely the most “awesome” experience ever. If that is the case….it’s all downhill from there I would surmise…the “Rockstar” lifestyle plays a reel of a story that perhaps isn’t so lustrous after all.